


You and Me

by liziscribbles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 08:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8838208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liziscribbles/pseuds/liziscribbles
Summary: Violet-blue eyes gawk at dark blue in stunned silence, and anything that he planned to say dies on his lips in favor of one simple, one-word question.Spoilers for just before the final battle!





	

_you and me were always with each other,  
before we knew the others was ever there_

It's only when he raises his eyes from his magazine that he discovers that it's Noctis. Really and truly, _actually_ Noctis, in flesh and blood and bone and breath and _life_.

Some nights—and there has been plenty of night these past ten years, what with the disappearance of the sun and all—he convinces himself that he'll never see Noctis again. Some nights it doesn't take much convincing. He knows how lucky he is to have survived this long. He's taken a few grave injuries, after all. Like the time he was with Dave, facing off against a pair of red giant and didn't dodge out of the way in time. When he'd gotten back, Gladio had made some comment, wondering if he was suicidal or just insane, but Prompto had been too dazed to remember the actual context of it.

Now, though, none of that matters. Because it's in the past, and damn it, he _did_ survive through it. And unless his mind is playing a cruel trick on him, Noctis is _here_. He's still not too sure about the cruel trick part, though. Thousands of thoughts swirl through his mind—of unasked questions and unsaid words that he's pondered asking and saying a thousand times over the past ten years—but time has not done his cowardice any favors, it seems.

Violet-blue eyes gawk at dark blue in stunned silence, and anything that he planned to say dies on his lips in favor of one simple, one-word question.

"Noct?"

He's spoken Noctis' name a thousand times—a _million_ times—before. In the beginning of his life, the name was filled with desperate wonder. The want to be friends. The want just to be in his _world_. After that, there was joy there. When they finally became friends, and even more so when Noctis became his everything. In the time that he's been gone, though, the joy and trust and happiness was replaced with regret and loneliness and sadness.

This time, though, there's desperation there. A _good_ desperation. Desperation to believe that what he sees before his eyes is real. That his friend is back. That this whole thing isn't just his mind playing tricks on him and showing him what he wants to see.

Unlike in his dreams, though, Noctis actually speaks in return. "Prompto," he calls out, his voice the same... but different. Haggard.

He's real. This is _real_.

"Noct!" he repeats, and this time—in the time it takes him to speak the name—he's out of his chair and on his feet and scooping his everything up in a _very_ unmanly hug. "Noct... is it really you?"

To his surprise, cool and calm Noctis hugs him _back_. And it's because of that slight motion that Prompto can't resist hugging just a little bit tighter. Before he knows it, his face is buried in Noctis' neck and his eyes are closed to stave off tears. Because he'll be damned if he's going to cry right now. Except he is crying. Right in front of Noctis and Gladio and Iggy. But that's okay, because he's reasonably sure that he hears Iggy crying too. He can't see it, because his eyes are slammed closed in a desperate, fruitless attempt to push back any further emotion, but he can hear it pretty well.

Noctis' voice is shaky for some reason—lack of use? Laughter? Prompto isn't sure—when he responds, "yeah, it's me."

His words are short as ever, but the way he clings to Prompto says more than words ever could. Prompto finally manages to gather his head, pulling back from the hug to take him in. His face is dirty but real. His eyes are tired. But real. Much to Prompto's amusement, he discovers that a layer of scruff has grown on Noctis' face. He remembers Noctis lamenting that he _couldn't_ grow any scruff, a thought that amuses him all the more. He looks just like Prompto imagined he would look at thirty. He has the same face, the same eyes. If he wasn't so obviously Noctis, one look in those eyes would have been enough.

Prompto has released everything but his hands on Noctis' arms, holding onto his biceps just for some kind of tactile proof that he's there. He's so stunned that he isn't sure what to say, but Noctis, as ever, covers his weakness for him by speaking up.

"We have some catching up to do," Noctis speaks, grinning that familiar lopsided grin that makes everything else in Prompto's world matter just a little bit less. "Before we finish what we started."

There's some weight in his voice that Prompto doesn't quite understand right now. But he can't find it in him to ask, because he's still not convinced that this is real. If it _is_ a dream, he doesn't want to wake up, so he just nods, smiles through tear-blurred eyes, and stands. "Hell _yeah_ , we do," he says, turning his shock—his relief—into enthusiasm.

Whatever tomorrow brings, Noctis is here right now. And that's what matters. Anything else, they'll deal with tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> The [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nNnBcCk7eDA) that accompanies the story. ♥


End file.
